


My Shirt Looks Better When You Wear It

by elysiumwaits



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22396393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysiumwaits/pseuds/elysiumwaits
Summary: Stiles runs off with one of Derek's shirt when he goes to college. Derek shows up to collect.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 19
Kudos: 284
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	My Shirt Looks Better When You Wear It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_milky_way](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_milky_way/gifts).



> Just a little ficlet as a treat. This started with Derek coming to see Stiles at Quantico and somehow became Stiles wearing Derek's shirt while away from the pack at college, with no Quantico in sight. The treat muse wants what the treat muse wants.

"Is that my t-shirt?" 

Stiles screams, and with reflexes honed from years of fighting off the things that go bump in the night, launches his bag of cheap, greasy take-out at the shadow in the corner that has just accused him of wardrobe theft. Turns out that the shadow is actually Derek, so the food actually gets caught instead of ending up all over the floor of Stiles' dorm room. Derek looks as unimpressed as he ever does, which in this case means that he looks vaguely amused, even if he likes to pretend he isn't. 

Stiles braces himself on the back of his desk chair and breathes for a second in an effort to calm his racing heart. "You get a sick sense of pleasure out of that," he accuses, reaching to turn on the lamp on his desk. It's late, like after midnight kind of late, but his roommate's not in the room. Of course he isn't - Stiles barely remembers the guy's name or what he looks like, since his girlfriend has an apartment off-campus. 

"A sick sense of pleasure out of what?" There's the rustle of a hand in the fast food bag. "Out of you wearing my shirt?" God, Derek even _sounds_ amused, which apparently is something only Stiles is ever aware of. Apparently, no one else can tell when Derek's making a joke or goofing around, which leaves Stiles alone in his assessment of Derek as hilarious.

Most of the time, anyway. "Sneaking in and trying to give me a heart attack." Stiles drops his keys on the desk and turns to where Derek's leaning against the window, unwrapping Stiles' burger. The window is five stories up and also doesn't open all the way, so Derek _probably_ didn't come in that way. "And stealing my food, apparently. Oh, come on, at least save me some of my own fries!" Stiles gets the bag thrown back at him for that one, sans burger, and maybe running with wolves this long _has_ done something for his reflexes, considering he catches it easily.

For a while, they eat in companionable silence - Stiles chowing down on the two orders of fries he'd gotten and tossing a bag of Doritos from his snack stash to Derek, because he knows all about werewolf appetites and one single cheeseburger from a drive-thru isn't going to do much to make a dent in Derek's metabolism. 

"So, _is_ that my shirt?" Derek asks, and Stiles feels the back of his neck heat as he resolutely shoves a handful of fries in his mouth to avoid answering. 

Because it is. It is absolutely, one hundred percent, Derek's very soft dark grey Henley that Stiles stole from the drawer of other Henleys that looked exactly like it when he was home to visit the pack back in the summer. It was an impulse theft, not premeditated. Just Stiles' silly impulse-driven brain, caught up in the thoughts of his and Derek's relationship being so undefined, and the next thing Stiles knew he was unpacking his bag in his dorm room and the Henley was in it. 

"That's a yes," Derek says, and still sounds _amused_ , like he's somehow pleased about it. 

This is starting to sound a lot like they're going to be talking about whatever it is going on between them. Stiles very carefully doesn't look over - he _likes_ what they have, which is a carefully cultivated relationship of the two of them making out when no one else is around and also laughing at each others' jokes. There aren't _dates_ exactly, just moments like this one where Derek appears where Stiles is and eats his food and takes up space on his bed. Like, yeah, sure he'd like it to be a Real Thing instead of just a Thing Stiles Wants, but one thing Stiles has learned over the years of being the Token Human is that rocking the boat typically isn't the best course of action.

Also, that was a lot of unnecessary emphatic capitalization usage in one thought process. Maybe he's got more feelings about this than he previously thought. Which, considering Derek is all werewolf-senses, he can probably tell. 

So there's no point in lying. "Yeah," Stiles admits, once he's swallowed those fries. "I stole it the last time I was over."

Derek is a lot closer than the window when he says, "I noticed." Like, right behind Stiles close. Like, hands on the back of his chair close. 

"I can give it back if you really want me to," Stiles offers, kind of twisting and failing to see Derek. Finally he gives up and just drops his head back. "But I really doubt you came all this way just to take your shirt back. Don't you have thirty just like it?"

Even upside down, Stiles can tell that Derek is smiling that soft smile, the one he only seems to wear when he and Stiles get all soft around each other. "I don't have thirty," Derek says. "But you can keep that one if you want it. It looks good on you."

Oh. _Oh_.

Yeah, that's dangerously close to 'talking about it' territory. Stiles should say something witty to steer the conversation back to safer waters. "It's so big on me that it looks like I'm wearing my boyfriend's shirt," is what he says, which is not at all safer. But whatever, it's out there now, no take-backs, even as Stiles feels his soul leave his body a little and his cheeks go fully blushing hot.

He watches Derek's eyebrows climb up, even if that smile seems to only get bigger. "Like I said," he finally says. "It looks good on you. I like you wearing my shirt." And then he leans down, kisses Stiles on the mouth in classic Spider-Man kiss fashion, and steals the rest of Stiles' fries off his desk.

A few different things ping around Stiles' brain as he readjusts to this new worldview where Derek Hale is his boyfriend. What lands, though, what sticks and comes out of his mouth is, "How attached are you to that leather jacket?"

"Unfortunately more attached to you," Derek says from where he's already kicking off his shoes and shedding his jacket next to Stiles' bed. Which, okay. That sounds like permission if Stiles has ever heard it.


End file.
